


Forever

by scarletbegonias37



Category: God’s Own Country, God’s Own Country (2017)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-24 18:36:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14361261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletbegonias37/pseuds/scarletbegonias37
Summary: Johnny and Gheorghe revisit their past and move into their future forever.





	1. The Message

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sorry this took me so long to write - and it’s still not quite done! That’s what I get for writing a multi-part fic. One chapter will go up per day.
> 
> Chapters alternate between Gheorghe’s and Johnny’s perspective. In chapters from Gheorghe’s POV, Johnny is “John”.
> 
> You can read this solo, but it is in the same continuity as my previous Johnny & Gheorghe fics. Hope you enjoy!

Gheorghe only checked Facebook about once a week, when he was in town at the Farmer’s Market and his phone actually worked. So, the message was a few days old by the time he saw it — not that that was a loss. An appropriate time to receive this message would be, Gheorghe thought: never.  
  
The message was in Romanian & didn’t translate exactly into English — too many colloquialisms — but had Gheorghe translated it, it would read something roughly like:  
  
_Hey Gheorghe,_  
  
_Been a long time since I’ve heard from you. Word around the network has it that you’re shacked up with some sheep farmer up north. Sounds like an adventure! When you’re done toiling away in the hinterlands, come on back to the city. We all miss you._  
  
Gheorghe couldn’t decide whether he should be more offended, aggravated, or hurt — or maybe just stick with what he was currently feeling, which was all three at once.  
  
Nicolae hadn’t contacted him in nearly a year, which in Gheorghe’s book was about a year too long to wait if you wanted someone to believe you gave a damn if they were alive or dead (by contrast, John had taken less than 3 days to come get him after he’d left the farm, and that had included most of a day’s travel). Like every toxic ex ever, he’d only popped back up out of nowhere because he had some hint that Gheorghe might finally be happy with someone else. He’d completely dismissed Gheorghe’s relationship with John, which he had no right to do, especially when he knew nothing about John. His message showed that he still had absolutely no clue, nor did he care, about what kind of lifestyle Gheorghe preferred or what he valued. And apparently — and most appallingly — after all this time, he still thought Gheorghe was just “working through some things” and would come crawling back to him eventually, without him even having to put forth any particular effort at all.  
  
Any one of these things would have offended Gheorghe; the combination of them infuriated him. Some possible responses sprang immediately to mind.  
  
_Why, yes, Nicolae, I’ve met a lovely country gentleman and we’re getting married in December, because unlike some people he understands the concepts of love and commitment and he wants me to stay with him forever. You’re not invited to the wedding. I’d say you can send a gift, since you certainly owe me enough money, but I don’t want you to have my address. However, I kindly invite you to go fuck yourself._  
  
Too angry. Perhaps he should inject a bit of humor.  
  
_Dear Nicolae — well, you know what they say: if you want a man who can handle his plow, get a farmer. Yes, I’ve met a gorgeous Englishman and he arouses me more than anyone ever has and he gives THE most incredible head and his cock is bigger than yours. Have a nice life! I know we will!_  
  
Too petty — although all of it was gratifyingly true. Maybe he should just keep it simple and straightforward.  
  
_Nicolae — I can’t believe you have the nerve to write me such a shitty message. I’m glad I dumped you & I’d do it again if I could._  
  
Sounded too much like he still cared. That’s why a message like this was so annoying — it was a trap, a manipulation. It was MEANT to provoke a response indicating that there was still some kind of emotion there. Even no response at all, after that “read” checkmark was sitting there, would be taken to mean something.  
  
But more importantly — because John was Gheorghe’s partner and priority — he didn’t feel right telling Nicolae anything about John when John knew nothing about Nicolae, not even his name. All he knew was “there was someone once, but no more”. John wasn’t one to probe when he sensed something was a painful subject, which was something Gheorghe usually liked about him.  
  
But now he was going to have to think of a way to frame this conversation that wouldn’t send John on a spiral of poorly repressed anxiety. John was clearly trying to work on his jealousy of other men, and Gheorghe had figured out that it stemmed not from John not trusting Gheorghe, but from his deeper (and rather understandable) abandonment issues. He was scared Gheorghe would leave again. There was not much Gheorghe could do about that other than be a solid, steady presence for him every day, until he relaxed. John was getting there — but he was getting there slowly.  
  
So, he was going to have to very, very carefully approach telling John that his ex was sniffing around and that Gheorghe felt he should write him and tell him that he would be a wedded man soon and that there was no chance in hell he was ever coming back.  
  
Gheorghe closed the Facebook messenger app and tossed his phone on the table, irritated. Nicolae had waited this long to contact him. He could certainly wait a few more days for a reply.  
  
***


	2. The List

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny stays organized.

Johnny sat at his tiny desk in the cramped side room to their bedroom, absent-mindedly petting the calico kitten on his lap and going over his to-do list, scratching things off & making additional notes.  
  
_Buy suits_. That was done. Check. Johnny had opined that it was a waste of money, but Deidre had insisted “grown wedded men need at least one suit”. Apparently, according to her, as soon as they were married they’d suddenly need to attend all kinds of church socials and formal events and important meetings. Johnny acquiesced just to shut her up and let Gheorghe take him to the consignment shop. Gheorghe looked great in everything, of course, and had a navy blue number picked out in no time, which he refused to let Johnny pay for. Johnny hated shopping — he was so tall and gangly that anything that fit his height was at least a bit too baggy, but Gheorghe said he could do some tailoring as long as it was minor. (Johnny sometimes wondered if there was anything he couldn’t do.) Johnny finally accepted a charcoal gray two-piece that Gheorghe said made his eyes look nice. If Gheorghe liked something, that was pretty much all it took for Johnny to agree.  
  
When Deidre saw Gheorghe with a needle and thread clenched in his mouth later, as he carefully cut open a seam, she just made a look at Johnny and said archly, “if I’d known he can knit AND sew, I’d have told y’to ask him to marry y’sooner”. Johnny flushed beet red. Gheorghe smiled, and just kept on cutting.  
  
Johnny tucked that happy memory in his personal mental treasure box  & continued on to the next item on the list.  
  
_Check size of wedding band & adjust if needed_. Deidre had given him the ring weeks ago. Johnny suspected resizing wouldn’t be necessary. His grandfather had been a tall, stocky man, just about Gheorghe’s size. Still, it was worth checking and getting the ring measured if only because the jeweler would polish it up it in the process. Johnny had to admit to himself that the thought of a ring flashing in the sunlight against the dark tanned skin of Gheorghe’s hand, drawing obvious attention, gave him considerable pleasure.  
  
He was trying not to be so jealous, and he knew he had no reason to be. Gheorghe was the most honest person he’d ever met, and logically, Johnny knew that he’d never cheat, or anything like that. But he still felt — possessive. Like a scrawny dog with a bone, or a little kid with a favorite toy. He did not even like the idea of sharing, and heaven help anyone who tried to pry Gheorghe away from him.  
  
He knew it wasn’t a healthy feeling; Gheorghe was not a possession, he was a person, and Johnny was trying his best to respect that and not listen to the voice in his head that screamed MINE! MINE! MINE! whenever he felt the slightest bit threatened by someone noticing that his fiancé was ridiculously handsome.  
  
Still, a nice shiny ring wouldn’t harm his sense of security any.  
  
Next item: _plane tickets to Romania_. Done. They were cheap after the holidays. Johnny was nervous about meeting Gheorghe’s mother and sisters — charming strangers was not his forte, to say the least, and no doubt they would think Gheorghe was mad for marrying him so quickly, even if by some miracle they liked him — but it would also be interesting. He wanted to see who had made and formed the magical, gentle man he loved. It would explain so much.  
  
_Hire neighbor to cover the farm during our trip_. That task wasn’t done yet, but Johnny was confident he could arrange it quickly. It was only for a week, and there wasn’t much to do in January besides feed the beasts, de-ice their water, change the straw a couple of times, and check the heaters. The Taylor family’s 18-year-old son would do it for a bargain fee, just for the excuse to joyride his family’s snowmobile back and forth from the Saxby farm.  
  
Last item on the list was the least pressing — in fact, there was no time demand or any obligation to do it at all, but it weighed on Johnny the most.  
  
_Answer letter or throw it away_.  
  
Johnny reached into the top drawer of his desk and pulled out the letter. It had arrived in an envelope with no return address on it, and after he’d opened it and read it, he understood why; if Deidre or Martin had seen the sender’s name, there would have been hell to pay. He’d already read it about a hundred times, and could probably recite it by heart by now, but he still started to read it again anyway.  
  
_Dear Johnny,_  
  
_I suppose you are probably just called “John” now, but it doesn’t seem right to write that, any more than I would call myself “Anne”._  
  
_I don’t expect you’ll be terribly thrilled to hear from me, so if you’ve read this far, I’m already doing better than I hoped. No one wants to hear from their mother 15 years after she left, I know that. And I won’t be angry if you rip this letter right up. I wouldn’t blame you at all._  
  
A flash of motion blurred through Johnny's peripheral vision, distracting him from his reading. It was Yorkie, the brown kitten, shooting like a rocket from the door to the attic to the hallway, a mouse half her size wedged firmly in her mouth. Johnny yowled as Gypsy dug her claws into his thigh and leapt off his lap to race after the other cat. It was almost comedic how accurately Gheorghe had named them. Gypsy was the cuddler, and no sooner had a member of the household sat down for ten seconds before she was all over them, climbing around their neck and nuzzling their face. Yorkie was the hider and the hunter, and would often disappear for a couple of days, only to suddenly dash out of a little-used closet or out of a pile of hay. She wouldn't let anybody pet her yet; she'd only worked her way up to letting them gently scratch behind her ears before she went running away again. The only person she'd really get close to was Martin; she liked to sleep curled at the foot of his bed, and Deidre would have chased her out if she didn't notice that Martin's legs trembled less when he slept with the weight and warmth of the kitten curled on them.

Speaking of Deidre, Johnny had better go find the kittens before --

"AAAAAHHHHHH!" Deidre shrieked from the kitchen. Too late. Yorkie had clearly sussed out that she was the household cook, and she kept bringing her 'offerings'. She hadn't yet figured out that humans were not as fond of eviscerated mice and birds as supper ingredients as she was, and she just cocked her head curiously at Deidre when she yelled. "JOHN SAXBY, YOU COME GET THIS MESS RIGHT NOW."

"Coming, nan!" Johnny called calmly, and tucked the letter back in the top drawer of his desk. It wasn't going anywhere, and if the woman who had written it was, well, that would be nothing new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to put the kittens in my last J&G fic so they had to be in this one!


	3. Gettin’ On With It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gheorghe considers the Saxby philosophy.

Gheorghe rolled a cigarette and smoked it slowly, leaning against the fence. He’d smoked more in the past few days than he’d smoked in months. It gave him time to think.

Maybe part of his problem was that he thought too much. He had a tendency to brood about the past, to fixate on mistakes he’d made or events that couldn’t be undone. That was one good thing about being with John, for him. They balanced each other out somewhat in that regard. John (and the Saxbys in general) believed strongly in what they called “gettin’ on with it”. As far as Gheorghe could tell, what they meant by this was to focus on the present and the immediate future, because the past couldn’t be changed and there was enough work to do in the here and now. Gheorghe found that adopting a little of that attitude was healthy for him, and he felt positive that he was providing some of the opposite balance for John, encouraging him to be a little more reflective and try to process unpleasant events instead of just pretending they hadn’t happened.  
  
Still, there was a decent chance John wouldn’t understand why he wanted to respond to Nicolae at all, and if John really objected strongly to it, Gheorghe had already decided he would not do it. John’s feelings were more important to him than being honest with Nicolae, and that was all there was to it.  
  
He hoped John wouldn’t object, though, because it would mean that John was still not confident that Gheorghe loved him with all of his soul, and that would hurt.  
  
He wanted to just talk to him about it. John was his best friend and he wanted to tell him everything, but he had to think about how to explain it. John wasn’t the type to ask many questions about anyone’s past, but one subject he had a keen interest in and hinted about fairly often was potential reasons Gheorghe might break up with somebody.  
  
He was going to be both pleased and wary to hear that Gheorghe had dumped Nicolae, and he was going to want to know why.  
  
_He cheated on me constantly and did too many drugs and turned into a horrible person_ was the simplest answer, and that sentence alone would have sufficed to explain it to anyone else, but with John, he was going to have to say more — because on the surface, they were very similar to the reasons Gheorghe had left the Saxby farm after his first week there, and without any further context provided, John could very well go into an emotional tailspin about it.  
  
He needed John to know that he was nothing like Nicolae. Beneath his rough exterior, John had a sweet, true, caring heart. Nicolae was a self-centered asshole.  
  
It was fairly easy enough to differentiate the cheating issue. What John had done was careless, cruel and inconsiderate, but you couldn’t exactly call it “cheating” when you hadn’t even had a conversation with someone about what you were to each other, and when their first overture at even mentioning a potential future together had been met with a discouraging reply (an understandable and reasonable one, but still discouraging). And it did somewhat mitigate Gheorghe's feelings about it, that John had thought his father was dying and was deeply upset about it. Not that that was an excuse, and to his credit, John hadn't made any excuses at all, and he'd apologized for it profusely and repeatedly, beginning on the coach on their way back to the farm.

"I don't know why I did it," John shook his head, whispering to Gheorghe as the other coach passengers slept through the night. "It was the stupidest thing I ever did. I was trying to prove I didn't need you, I guess, and all it did is prove the opposite to me. Please, say you forgive me."  
  
Gheorghe did forgive him, and he apologized and asked for his own forgiveness as well. He was miserable with himself for having pushed and raised his hand to strike John, and the memory of John not even resisting, just going limp and waiting for him to hit him, haunted him. They'd held each other in the dark all the way home, promising to be better people and to be kinder to each other, and so far, they were doing pretty well at that, Gheorghe thought.

By contrast, the first time Gheorghe caught Nicolae cheating on him, he'd had plenty of excuses. He was lonely. Gheorghe had only been in the country for a couple of months, and he worked so often already. The other guy was an acquaintance of theirs, and he'd been having a hard time lately too, missing his own home, and it was just a moment of comfort, it didn't mean anything. Gheorghe could understand that, couldn't he?

The second and third times Gheorghe caught him cheating, it was because of the drugs. He'd have never made such mistakes if he wasn't completely out of his mind, out of control. It was a problem, but he was trying to stop. Gheorghe had to support him in that, didn't he?

The fourth time Gheorghe caught him, he just shrugged and gave Gheorghe a look that said _what are you going to do about it?_

Well, Gheorghe had left him then, but he still felt like a fool for letting it go on for so long.

Nicolae's drug use and John's drinking, though -- that was the real sticking point, the thing that was going to be harder to differentiate. The only real differences there were the types of substances they liked -- Nicolae used horrible powders that smelled of death and made him paranoid and manic, and pills that made him pass out -- and the fact that John had actually stopped drinking.  
  
But in truth, Gheorghe didn't know if John had done that because he really wanted to be healthy and stop damaging himself, or just because he knew it might cost him Gheorghe. At first, he had just been so relieved to see that John had stopped, he didn't question it, and as time went by he wasn't sure how or when to bring it up, if it would make things better or worse.

John did still have a pint of lager now and then, but only very occasionally, and no more than one, usually on a hot day, and he sipped it slowly. Doubtless, Gheorghe's approving face when he consistently turned down a second one was not lost on him. But, Gheorghe had noticed that John sometimes paused, thoughtfully, before saying "no, I've had enough".

Gheorghe stubbed his cigarette out. Yes, bringing up Nicolae meant explaining his behavior, and doing that meant having a serious conversation with John about his own drinking, or not-drinking. Gheorghe didn't know much about addiction, but he knew you weren't supposed to get into new relationships when you were in recovery, and if he'd been a stronger person, he probably would have said to John, when he'd come to find him in Scotland: call me when you've been sober for six months. But it was so romantic, when John asked him to come back with him and be with him, and Gheorghe was weak he supposed, and far too gone in love already to say no.

But, this wasn't something that they could avoid discussing forever. It was the one issue that could still break them, and Gheorghe wanted very much to start their marriage with a clean slate. He wanted them to have the best possible chances.

He would talk to him. Soon.


	4. The Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny learns a few things about his personal history.

_Dear Johnny,_

_I suppose you are probably just called “John” now, but it doesn’t seem right to write that, any more than I would call myself “Anne”._

_I don’t expect you’ll be terribly thrilled to hear from me, so if you’ve read this far, I’m already doing better than I hoped. No one wants to hear from their mother 15 years after she left, I know that. And I won’t be angry if you rip this letter right up. I wouldn’t blame you at all._

_None of the following are excuses for my behavior. I’m only telling you these things because I know children often blame themselves and I want you to know that absolutely none of it was your fault._

_Your father and I were very young when we had you. I was only 19. I didn’t know anything about life, and here I suddenly had a baby and a farm to help run. I had no skills at it, and I felt useless all the time. The winters really got to me. I know now that I’ve had some therapy and read about it that I was clinically depressed. But nobody talked about that kind of thing then._

_I was suicidal sometimes. I thought about walking out into the snow and just lying down and burying myself in it until I went to sleep forever. Then spring would come, the sunlight would come back and I’d feel a little better again, and I’d muddle on through the year, only to start over when winter came again. I coped, or so I thought, for years like that._

_But — I hesitate to tell you this, but if I am going to be fully honest with you — when I started thinking about taking you with me into the snow, because it was the only way I could think of that we could leave together, I knew I had to leave alone._

_That’s the winter I left. I still wanted to take you with me, but I had no money or permanent place to stay, and as terrible a mother as I was, I could not bring myself to force a child to be homeless with me._

_I won’t burden you with what happened to me over the next few years, other than to say that my depression didn’t get much better and I abused drink and drugs for a long time. What I remember of my behavior during those years fills me with great shame. That’s part of why I wanted to write you. Your father was a heavy drinker too, and so was your grandfather. I have no right to preach to you about behavior, and I won’t. But they say it’s genetic and it’s something for you to be aware of._

_Eventually I got sober and got my cosmetology license. By then you were almost 13, and I contacted Martin and Deidre to ask if I could see you. Martin never answered me at all, which I can’t blame him for. If the roles were reversed I’d have done the same thing. Deidre said that she would only approve it if I could be a consistent presence in your life and if I was capable of setting up a court-approved, regular visitation schedule._

_I wasn’t capable of those things. I hadn’t been sober for all that long, and I was living in a studio apartment in a - let’s just say a part of town you shouldn’t bring a child to. I knew she was right, and it only convinced me she was right after I went out and had a relapse immediately after receiving her letter. I got sober again, and I’m sober now, but that wasn’t the only time I failed. It’s an ongoing process and I’ll be working at it constantly for the rest of my life._

_Perhaps you’ll understand a little better why I stayed away after that. I knew, and I know, that I cannot ever get back my relationship with you. If a parent is not present when a child is still a child, they are not really a parent at all._  

 _But you are an adult now, and you can make your own decisions. Like I said earlier, if you rip this letter up, I’ll understand. And I am not asking for anything other than that it would be nice to hear from you that you’re healthy and happy. Or if you’re not, and there’s anything I could possibly do to help, I would be grateful to hear it._  

_Oh, Johnny, this is the point in the letter where I lose my nerve about whether I have a right to send it at all. I’ve written letters like this to you before and then lost my courage and thrown them away. I will try to be a little more confident this time. Even a postcard from you would be treasured by me. And if you ever wanted to see me, even if just to hear about my medical history or anything like that, I would be overjoyed. I often wonder if we still look alike._

_Love,_

_Annie_

_***_

A postal address in London, an e-mail address, a landline and a cellphone number were all scrawled beneath the signature. The desperation they signaled was a little pathetic but also touching, Johnny guessed. He wasn’t sure what he felt about it, other than numb.

If he were being honest, Johnny remembered very little about his mother; she had left when he was 9 years old. All he really remembered is that she had a lovely singing voice, when she sang him to sleep, and that she was very pretty, with deep (though sad) blue eyes and mounds of thick, wavy chestnut brown hair. He didn’t remember thinking he looked very much like her at all.

The letter had, however, brought back a series of other clipped but vivid memories. His mother being unable to get out of bed, change her clothes, or bathe for days on end. He carefully boiled and brought her a cup of tea once, because he thought that would make her feel better, but she had just burst into tears when she’d seen it.

A time when she’d stared into the mirror for hours, and when Johnny’d asked what she was looking at, she’d said in a far-off voice, “just checking to see if I’m still here”. 

Another memory of her crying uncontrollably in the kitchen because she’d burned a pancake. Johnny remembered that seeming very odd to him even as a child, because everyone knew that the first pancake made would either be burned or undercooked and it just got thrown to the chickens anyway. But she couldn’t stop crying.

So, the information in the letter seemed accurate, he supposed. But he still wasn’t sure he wanted to talk to his mother, let alone see her. What was the point? He was sorry she felt bad about it all, but she was right. None of it could be changed now.

One thing did give him pause, though. He had recognized, being with Gheorghe, that there was something missing in himself and it might relate to the lack of a mother. Gheorghe showed all the signs of someone who had been raised by a person who loved him and cared for him unconditionally, who taught him things patiently, who forgave him whenever he made a mistake, who kissed and hugged him when he was hurt. It was obvious, because Gheorghe knew how to do those things for someone else naturally, and Johnny did not. He really had to work at it and think about it. And he knew his own neediness and desperation for Gheorghe’s care, although Gheorghe found it endearing (and maybe even a turn-on) now, would get old eventually. He wanted to be with Gheorghe for the rest of his life, and you couldn’t still be asking someone to reassure you constantly that they wanted you and wouldn’t leave you after 20, 30 years. Johnny had to work on this.

Maybe if he did something to try to heal his sense of inadequacy about his mother leaving him, or the ingrained belief it had placed in him that everyone left eventually, he would be a better partner to Gheorghe.

It was something to think about, anyway.

But he still couldn’t decide, so he folded the letter up and put it back in the drawer.


	5. The Suits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny gives a gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is another Johnny POV chapter; the next will be Gheorghe’s POV.)

Gheorghe straightened out Johnny’s pant cuffs, and checked all the measurements. “Good. It fits now.” He looked up at Johnny with his usual quirky smile.

Johnny looked in the mirror. The suit looked fine, he guessed. “As long as you’re happy with it,” he shrugged. “Appreciate you working on it. I still don’t know why nan’s so hung up on the suits.”

“She loves her grandson. Let her have it,” Gheorghe said, standing up and tucking himself behind Johnny, looking at their reflections together in the mirror and giving Johnny a quick peck on the cheek. “Besides, you look good.”

“You can put a silk dress on a sow but it won’t improve her looks none,” Johnny said archly.

“Someday you’ll believe me about how handsome you are,” Gheorghe insisted, pecking him again. “Now take it off before you wrinkle it.”

“Nagging me already,” Johnny smiled, shrugging out of the jacket. “I can’t wait to marry you.”

Gheorghe sat on the chair in their room, watching as Johnny carefully took the suit off. It seemed like it was becoming more real every day. They were really going to do this.

“Do you think you’re a little young to be married?” Gheorghe asked, seemingly out of nowhere, and his tone was a little more concerned than usual – and that was bearing in mind that on a good day, Gheorghe’s tone often varied on a scale from _are you SURE you’re OK?_ to _you’re letting me take care of you whether you like it or not_.

Johnny gave him an odd look.  One interesting thing about their relationship was that they both probably worried more than they ought to, but about entirely different things. He hoped they balanced each other out somewhat in that regard. “I’m 24. I’ve been running a farm for five years. Most of my schoolmates are married with two kids by now.” He shrugged, unbothered.

“I just hope you don’t feel rushed. I know there are circumstances, but…”

Johnny interrupted him, “I asked you, remember? And you’re only 29 yourself, you’re hardly some old geezer robbing the cradle.” He finished putting the suit on its hanger and hung it up in the closet. “Not trying to back out now, are you, after I’ve already bought this ridiculous suit?”

Gheorghe relaxed and grinned. “No. Never.”

Johnny turned back to him and took a deep breath, clenching and unclenching his hands unconsciously. Gheorghe noticed it immediately, of course. “What is it?” he said, before Johnny could speak.

“I, well, I was going to ask you about one other thing,” Johnny stammered a bit over the words. He reached into the top bureau drawer, and pulled out a small box and handed it to Gheorghe. “I was kind of hoping you would, maybe…if you wanted to, anyway.”

Gheorghe popped the box open to reveal a simple, but fine gold man’s wedding band. He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You want me to wear this?”

“Yeah.” Johnny was a little flushed, and his nerves were fluttering. Gheorghe had the plain, open expression that Johnny loved (and found very sexy) but which also drove him mad, since he couldn’t read it at all. “I mean…if you wanted to, like I said. But you have to check and see if it fits. That’s why I brought it out now.”

“Is this Martin’s?”

“God, no,” Johnny grimaced briefly. “Divorce rings are bad luck, I reckon. I don’t even know what happened to dad’s ring. He probably threw it in the lake. This was my grandfather’s. Him and nan were happy as could be together right up until he died, if you can imagine nan happy.”

“I can, actually,” Gheorghe replied. He tried it on. It fit perfectly. “Look,” he said, waggling his fingers at Johnny. “I’m sorry about one thing, though,” he added, twisting the ring. “I don’t have one for you – yet. My mother is holding onto my father’s for me. I didn’t want her to send it in the mail. I thought we could pick it up when we’re there.”

Gheorghe’s father had died when he was very young, and Johnny was deeply moved to think that Gheorghe wanted him to have his ring. “No rush,” Johnny said casually, but his heart was thumping away inside his chest like a drum solo.

Gheorghe continued to twist the ring a little, looking thoughtfully at it. “It’ll be interesting to see if people notice it. I’ve never worn a ring before.”

“I hope they do,” Johnny muttered quietly, turning back to, needlessly, straighten out the suit on its hanger again, hoping Gheorghe wasn’t staring at him (but knowing he was).

“I thought you might like that idea,” Gheorghe said. Damn him! He knew Johnny so well, there was nothing he could hide from him. “It’s okay to want people to know someone is yours, John. I just hope you don’t worry about it so much anymore.”

“I don’t,” Johnny said honestly. “I do trust you, Gheorghe. Completely. I just…” he couldn’t think of the words to say.

“I understand, John. I just want you to feel safe.” Gheorghe beckoned him to come closer, and Johnny began moving towards him slowly. “I’m never taking this ring off. Well, unless we have to spread muck.”

“You’re not supposed to put it on permanently until the wedding. I was going to take it to the jeweler to have it polished up. Give it a nice shine, like.” Johnny reddened. Gheorghe could already see right through him about this ring, and here he was admitting that he would like it to gleam and perhaps blind the men that looked at him.

Gheorghe grabbed both of Johnny’s hands gently and pulled him closer, until Johnny was sitting on his lap and straddling him in the chair, wearing only his t-shirt and boxers now. “We’re already married as far as I am concerned. And if I want something polished,” he said with a teasing tone, leaning in to kiss Johnny’s neck softly a few times, and then once deeply on the mouth, “I’ll polish it myself.”

“Oh, will you now?” Johnny lifted an eyebrow, shuddering with pleasure already. “I’ve got something else you can polish off, if you’re really that eager.”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Gheorghe laughed and lifted Johnny by the thighs, holding him aloft briefly before he dumped him, giggling, onto the bed, and pounced on him.

He never did take the ring off after that, not ever, except in muck-spreading season.


	6. The Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gheorghe and John confide in each other.

Gheorghe went to bed happy, but he didn’t sleep well. He had a nightmare that he and John were on a train going through the mountains in Romania – an area he knew well, but also knew didn’t have a train route through it in real life – and they couldn’t find each other. Sometimes he could hear John’s voice on the car ahead of his, calling to him, and he would run towards it only to then hear his voice again in the car behind him. The train was going forward, so how could they keep passing each other?

Just a typical anxiety dream, but it woke him up a full hour before dawn, and he couldn’t get back to sleep. He untangled himself gently from John, who was wrapped around him as usual, snoring, and headed downstairs.

By the time John woke up, Gheorghe was sitting in the chair, looking out of the window, a cup of coffee in his hand and another one waiting on the side table that he picked up and handed to John, who accepted it with a grateful nod while rubbing his eyes.

“Are you alright?” John asked, still too sleepy to have the nervous edge that Gheorghe might have otherwise expected. “You’re up so early.” 

“I had a bad dream,” Gheorghe admitted, still slightly reluctant. “And…there is something on my mind.”

“There’s always something on your mind,” John murmured, not unhappily - just stating a fact - taking another sip. “Did I do something wrong?” There was that nervous edge creeping in. “If it’s about the ring, I…”

“No, no, it’s not about that,” Gheorghe assured him. “I love the ring. It’s just, there’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about. It’s just a small thing, but talking about it would make me feel better.”

John’s face softened, relaxing _._ “Of course,” he said, nodding for Gheorghe to go ahead.

“You know I said there was someone once,” Gheorghe knew he had to get through this part quickly, because John was tensing up again already, so he spoke a little faster than he usually did. “He wrote me a message. I haven’t heard from him in a long time. I guess someone gossiped to him that I’m up here on a farm. I was going to write him back, but I wanted to talk to you first.”

John sipped his coffee slowly and readjusted so he was sitting up fully, his back against the wall. “Well,” he began warily, “You don’t need my permission to do that.”

“I know I don’t, but I wanted to see if you would mind,” Gheorghe persisted gently. John’s reaction wasn’t as bad as it could be, so far.

John mulled it over. “I suppose that depends on what he said and what you’d want to say back.”

Gheorghe was prepared with his response to that one. “He said he thinks it’s just a temporary thing and I want to tell him he’s wrong and that he can go fuck himself.”

John choked a bit on his coffee. “Has anyone ever told you you’ve got quite the way with words,” he said, lifting his eyebrows.

“No, not really,” Gheorghe answered seriously, before realizing, as John gave him a smirk, that John had been joking. He still didn’t always get English humor.

“I can’t say as I mind any of that. I especially like the part where you tell him to go fuck himself,” John smiled briefly, before his face faded. “But I guess…I am curious…”

“You want to know why we broke up,” Gheorghe offered.

“Yeah, I guess,” John mumbled, clearly trying not to sound anxious or overeager.

Gheorghe had taken his time and thought this through carefully. What details John would or wouldn’t be interested in. He’d decided he didn’t need to tell him about every little thing; it would both bore him and stress him out. He didn’t need to go on about every single time he’d come home from a long day of work to find a bunch of strangers in his apartment, huddling around a coffee table with lines of powder on it, cackling and screeching like banshees. He also didn’t need to tell him about Nicolae going to circuit parties, or for a time taking a side job as a go-go boy, something Gheorghe found undignified but had tried not to be judgmental about.  John was no prude, but he was sheltered in many ways, and he didn’t need all that explained to him when what he really wanted to know were basic truths.

So Gheorghe told him: about how he and Nicolae were boyfriends when they were young in Romania, off and on as young people tend to be. How Nicolae had gone off to the West to look for employment, and Gheorghe had stayed behind helping his mother while his grandfather was in the slow decline of age. How when his grandfather died, he came to join Nicolae in London and they had one good month together, when Nicolae was still working steadily in construction and as a club bouncer, and helping to hook Gheorghe up with similar jobs. And then, how he’d deteriorated quickly, revealing himself to have been using drugs for years and having no intention to stop, nor to stop sleeping with other men. How finally Gheorghe had left behind all his possessions of value – not that there was much, just a stereo, some books, and their furniture – packed a bag of clothes that would be warm and useful for rural labor, took some tips and recommendations from a few friends he’d made in the community about where to start looking for work, and gotten the hell out of town.

It was more than Gheorghe was used to saying in one sitting, and it took him some time to mentally translate some parts of it into English. John listened to the story thoughtfully, with no interruptions, but he pressed his fist tightly to his mouth about halfway through it and kept it there.

“He changed,” Gheorghe concluded. “He wasn’t the same person.”

John took his fist away, and made a face like he was searching for the right words to say. “Well, he sounds like a right arsehole.” He paused, searching again. “You don’t deserve any of that, Gheorghe, and I’d say you’re too forgiving but I can hardly complain about that myself.”

“You’re not like him,” Gheorghe said. “Not at all. Please don’t compare yourself to him.”

John nodded, looking a little reassured but still concerned. “I should hope not. I know I’ve made mistakes - terrible ones - but I would never hurt you over and over on purpose like that.”

“I know that, John,” Gheorghe replied quickly, a little choked up. He leaned over toward the bed, and John leaned forward to kiss him gently.

When they broke apart, John briefly pressed his forehead against Gheorghe’s and said quietly, “When you write him, feel free to tell him I think he’s an absolute fool and that I thank him kindly for being stupid enough to let you go.” Gheorghe smiled.

“There is something about this that does bother me, though,” John said, leaning back. He bit his lip, clearly working up his nerve. “You must have been very worried about my drinking when we met. That first week.”

 “I was,” Gheorghe admitted, a little wary. “I am,” he dared further. “I’m always concerned for you.” He was hoping to open this subject up, but it could go very badly if John got defensive.

John nodded at that, his face pale and unhappy. “I didn’t like doing it, to be honest. Not at all. It was just…stress relief, I guess. Waking up puking your guts out every morning and not remembering how you got home or what you did…it’s awful,” he said quietly. Gheorghe’s heart hurt for him, but he was glad and relieved to hear John’s self-awareness. “I’ve been thinking about it, though, because I got a message from somebody too.” He climbed out of bed, walked into the side room for a moment, and returned with a letter in his hand that he handed over to Gheorghe. “Go ahead, read it.”

Gheorghe read the letter, his brow furrowing as he did. There were a couple of words he didn’t understand, but he could figure out what they meant in context. When he looked back up at John, John had curled his long legs up and wrapped his arms around them, and his face was soft and blank, seeking guidance. “Do you want to see your mother?” He tried to keep his tone neutral, prepared to support whatever John chose to do.

“I don’t know,” John shrugged. “But I think…maybe it would be good for me. Maybe I should ask her some questions. You saw what she said about genetics.”

Gheorghe nodded, and reached over to take one of John’s hands in his, not saying anything, just offering some comfort.

“I was also thinking...” John hesitated again. “There are these meetings down at the church, on Wednesday afternoons. It’s a thing where you’re like, anonymous, even though everyone around here is going to know everyone, I know that. But I thought I might try it.”

Gheorghe was swelling so much with hope for their future, he thought his heart might burst out of his chest. It was true that John was always going to have to work at this, but he was the most disciplined and stubborn person Gheorghe had ever met – he’d been determined to abuse himself previously, and Gheorghe had faith that John could be just as determined in trying to stay healthy. “I’m so proud of you, John,” he said simply, because he couldn’t think of how to express everything he was feeling. He hoped John could feel it in his tone, and in the kiss he reached to give him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s important to note that simply deciding to go to AA doesn’t solve things...this plot point is simply meant to indicate that Johnny is starting out on a path of self-healing, and that Gheorghe is planning to support him. I may write more about this journey as time goes on, but please be assured Johnny (my version of him) is committed to this.
> 
> Happier moments are coming...stay tuned!


	7. The Replies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter was a little late & next one might be a little late, so I’m making up for that a bit by putting this short one up early...the next ones are much longer :) This has all been the prelude :)

_***_

_Nicolae,_

_It was a surprise to hear from you, but I’m glad that you seem to be doing well. I hope so, anyway._

_For once, the gossip is correct. I am indeed shacked up with a farmer. He’s a very nice man, and we’re very happy. We’re actually getting married next month. It all happened rather quickly, but when you know, you know._

_I hope you’ll be happy for me. I always wished the best for you, no matter what it seemed like at the time, and I still do._

_Please say hello to your mother for me if you speak to her._

_Sincerely,_

_Gheorghe_

The next time Gheorghe checked Facebook, Nicolae had blocked him, which was fine by him. He probably would have cut off all venues of contact himself a long time ago, if he hadn’t had some misguided notion that if Nicolae were ever ‘really’ in trouble (how much more trouble could he get into?) he ought to get in touch with his family.

But it was someone else’s problem now, and he felt the heavy burden released.  
  
***

_Dear Mother,_

_I started to write “Annie” but I just couldn’t do it. I don’t want to pretend like we’re closer than we are, but you did give birth to me so I am going to call you what you are._

_I appreciated your letter. It made me understand a lot of things that I never did before. And I’m sorry you went through that. I hope you really are happier now. I’ve been through some low times myself and I’m only still learning how to help myself pull out of them. I know you said you don’t want me to blame myself, but I think you shouldn’t blame yourself either. Life is just hard. It just is. I’m old enough to know that now._

_But, I’m pleased to be able to write you and tell you that what you were hoping to hear is true. I am really happy now, and I think I’m getting pretty healthy. The reason for both is the same. I found a partner and we’re doing really well. His name is Gheorghe. Yes, that’s “his” and I didn’t misspell his name. I’m not sure if that will be a surprise to you. Dad only ever shrugged and said I never had an eye for the lasses and Nan always says nothing has ever surprised her in her entire life._

_I’m actually getting married next month. I thought about inviting you, but I hope you won’t be offended when I say I decided against it. I thought that would be too much pressure on us both, and we aren’t doing anything big anyway, just signing papers at the town hall._

_But, maybe you would like to meet him. And I would like to see you._

_We are traveling through London in January, on our way back and forth from Romania. That’s where Gheorghe’s from. I’m going to meet his mother, so it would be nice if he could meet mine. We could meet you on our way out on the 11 th or our way back on the 18th. Will either of those work for you? We could meet for coffee or tea or maybe a meal, nothing fancy._

_Gheorghe convinced me to get a cellphone even though it hardly works up here, but my number’s written below. Just leave a message and I’ll call back when I have service._

_Love,_

_Johnny_

Johnny hesitated before pushing the letter into the mail slot, just like he’d hesitated to write it, hesitated to put it in an envelope and put a stamp on it, and delayed coming into town so as to avoid the post office. But he did finally push it through, in a rush, exhaling. He was nervous, but when hadn’t he been, in his life?

Bold moves worked. He’d learned that from confronting his family, from going after Gheorghe, from asking him to marry him in the first place, and it was a lesson he tried to remember.


	8. The Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gheorghe and Johnny make a commitment.

Gheorghe and John were married on a quiet Monday afternoon in December, when the snow was starting to fall gently. A few of Gheorghe’s friends who were scattered around the countryside, and a handful of Johnny’s friends from school had come the previous weekend to take them out for dinner and a lot of jolly teasing in various accents that both of them could, respectively, hardly understand, but on the day itself there were only four attendees. Simple and private, the way they liked their life. The wedding lasted all of ten minutes.

Gheorghe had three specific memories of the day that stood out to him forever afterwards:

***

Sitting with Martin beforehand, waiting for Deidre and John to finish the paperwork. John and Gheorghe had already been interviewed in order to receive their marriage license – to figure out whether it was just a marriage of convenience or some kind of financial arrangement, Gheorghe reckoned – but still, John and Deidre had to give some kind of separate statements, since they were citizens, and John had letters of testimonial from other friends and neighbors that he needed to file. Gheorghe and Martin waited patiently, in comfortable silence.

“Always…wanted…’nother son,” Martin spoke up suddenly, surprising Gheorghe. “One’s not enough. Lonely.” He turned his gaze, which managed to be sharp and soft at once, on Gheorghe, who was deeply moved. He chatted with Martin easily enough, and it was clear they mutually respected each other, but they’d never had what you could call a heart-to-heart of any kind.

“My father died when I was just a kid. I guess I need a father too,” Gheorghe confessed, hoping Martin wouldn’t shut back down. He reached to place his hand on Martin’s. “I hope I’ll be a good son to you.”

“Already are,” Martin said gruffly. “Make him happy.” From his tone, Gheorghe could tell this wasn’t a command, but a statement of fact. He smiled from ear to ear, and Martin curled his fingers around his hand.

***

John’s flushed, happy face when the officiant declared them spouses. The soft sunlight reflecting off the snow and falling through the windows of the town hall, lighting up his luminous skin and eyes.

Gheorghe had expected Deidre to shed a few stoic tears and pretend that her eyes were just watering, but he hadn’t expected her to weep her way through three soaked handkerchiefs, first her own, then Martin’s, then finally John’s, who handed it to her with a slightly exasperated but still loving “I thought better of you, nan”.

“Mind your business,” Deidre retorted, and kept right on weeping.

“Is this the part when we’re supposed to kiss?” John asked the officiant, a very kind lady judge with bouffant platinum blonde hair, thick glasses, and a sweet face. She smiled, but before she could answer, Gheorghe swooped in and kissed John anyway.  
  
“Every part’s the part when we’re supposed to kiss,” he whispered in John’s ear afterward, and John laughed softly with delight, Gheorghe’s absolute favorite sound in the world.  
  
***

And of course, Gheorghe remembered everything about their wedding night vividly, but one thing John said in particular.

They would not be honeymooning for several more weeks, deciding to wait and have their first Christmas together at home before traveling to Romania to meet Gheorghe’s family. But Deidre had surprised them by renting a cottage, insisting that they absolutely could not stay at home on their wedding night. John laughed when he saw the place. “Look at what these hipsters have done,” he waved at it. It was a stone farmhouse, not unlike the Saxby’s, but it had been completely gutted inside, modernized and spruced up by someone who clearly read a lot of design magazines. No doubt, some rich kept city wife who’d wanted a country home in the summer, but didn’t intend to muddy her boots there in the winter, and thus had put it up on Air BnB for the off-season. Deidre had probably gotten a bargain deal; what tourist would trek out here in December?

“It’s nice,” Gheorghe said simply. The slate countertops and dark wood trim details were too fancy for his taste, but it was quiet, and pretty in its own way, and there was a fireplace, and best of all, there were no neighbors within three miles and they could make as much noise as they wanted to.

Gheorghe and John got into a brief playful wrestling match in the doorway, with John claiming he had to carry Gheorghe over the doorsill – a custom Gheorghe had never heard of.

“I’m heavier than you, though,” Gheorghe protested laughingly, squirming out of John’s attempt to lift him up.

“That’s why I’ve got to do it, it’s a feat of strength to show you I can take care of you,” John huffed and squealed with laughter as Gheorghe tickled him, then used the distraction to throw John over his shoulder and carry him inside.

“Do you want to make a fire? Eat something?” Gheorghe asked. They’d brought food and supplies with them for the morning, but he suspected John would pass up dinner in favor of making love all night and having a gigantic breakfast instead.

John smirked at him and said, “Not when they’ve got central heat. Look. How ridiculous is this!” he shook his head, reaching for the thermostat and turning it up. He grabbed Gheorghe’s hands, pulling him towards the stairs. “Straight to bed, I think.”

Though John had been in a hurry to reach the bedroom, he was, Gheorghe was pleased and quite aroused to find, not in any rush at all once he got there. He undressed Gheorghe slowly, draping his clothes gently over a chair, and pausing to kiss each bit of skin of Gheorghe’s that he uncovered along the way. Gheorghe did the same for him, noticing that John was trembling slightly.

“Are you cold?” he asked, rubbing John’s limbs lightly, feeling the warmth rise to the surface as his pale skin turned a rosy pink.

“No,” John shook his head, pulling Gheorghe up to face him. “I’m just…I don’t know. This is real, isn’t it? It’s not a dream. I’m not going to wake up.”

“Have you been waiting all these months for that to happen?” Gheorghe grinned, warmly.

“Maybe,” John said, shyly, blushing a bit and lowering his eyes.

Gheorghe kissed both his eyelids, wrapping him in his arms, and feeling John go slack and relaxed. “You’re awake,” he said softly but firmly, into John’s ear.

When they lay down on the bed, John paused a moment to stroke Gheorghe’s temple, letting his hand trail down to his waist, but not reaching for his groin just yet. “You know,” he confessed, “I always thought of myself as an unlucky person, but I’m the luckiest bastard alive and that’s the truth.”

“I don’t know about that,” Gheorghe demurred, smiling at him and pushing his hair off of his forehead.

“No, it’s true. You know, I didn’t want them to run that ad at all,” John admitted, adding when Gheorghe gave him a quizzical look, “Deidre and Martin. I said it were a waste of money and I could do the lambing myself. They didn’t believe me so they ran it anyway. What’s the luck, you know? And I mean, what are the odds you’d be the only one to answer it.”

“I almost didn’t answer it,” Gheorghe shrugged. “The money wasn’t that good, no offense. I just missed lambing, to be honest. I hadn’t done it in so long. Making something come to life.”

“The lambs aren’t the only ones you done that for,” John sighed, and kissed him passionately. “I just…it makes me sad sometimes to think about it. If I’d never met you, I’d never know what this feeling is like.”

“Love?” Gheorghe made a sentimental face at him.

“That, but...more than that,” John mulled over the words, puzzling out what he was thinking. “I guess…happiness.”

Gheorghe smiled, and kissed John again. “If I have my way, you’ll never be sad again in your life,” he murmured to him, feeling the ripple of electricity his words sent through John flutter under his skin.

Gheorghe had never been a religious person; life was too unfair and involved too much suffering for him to think that a greater force was in charge of it all. But something about John made him feel...spiritual. It was hard not to feel that way when the person who was made for you, the yin to your yang, had been born thousands of miles from where you had, and whom you’d met through a series of random chances and events. If he’d never met Nicolae, or if Nicolae had gone to a different country - if he’d never left home - if he’d never answered that ad. If his own grandfather hadn’t been a sheep farmer who taught him lambing. There was no point questioning any of it. It was meant to be.

John’s body was his altar, and he knelt before it, offered his praise, and pledged his loyalty. And even in the dim light, he could see John’s eyes shining at him with worshipful, beatific gratitude.

They touched, heart to heart, soul to soul, and body to body, and though they didn’t sleep much that night, when they found themselves wrapped in each other’s arms watching the hazy purple dawn climbing over the snow-dusted hill, it still felt like a perfect dream to them. Nothing would ever separate them again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn’t going to write a wedding fic for these two because as you can see, in my mind Johnny and Gheorghe get married in the simplest possible fashion. Thanks for bearing with me as I injected a little angst & drama along the way :)
> 
> Stay tuned for the epilogue. Johnny and Gheorghe still have family members to meet! 
> 
> P.S. Apologies for the delay in posting the final chapter, it spiralled into a long one & I’m still editing it! It will be up by Saturday at the latest!


	9. Fortune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny and Gheorghe take a trip and meet some important people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry for the delay in posting this chapter! Truth is it spiralled out of control and got much longer than I intended. But important things are happening here for Gheorghe and Johnny!
> 
> You’ll also notice this has become a 10-chapter fic. There’s one more short epilogue that will go up tomorrow :)
> 
> Note: this chapter switches between Johnny & Gheorghe’s POV.

Johnny twisted his napkin in his lap, and tapped the side of his cup of tea idly; he’d hardly taken a sip. Gheorghe drank his own cup slowly, his eyes burning a hole in Johnny’s forehead. He reached over to hold Johnny’s hand, gently. They didn’t have to say anything; they’d talked this whole thing through, and the game plan was already set.

Johnny just hadn’t thought about what would happen if his mother didn’t show up. They’d gotten to the diner – a simple pierogi joint that Gheorghe had discovered in his brief time living in London, and knew Johnny would be comfortable in – nearly fifteen minutes early, granted, but Johnny couldn’t take his eyes off the clock. Three minutes until the appointed meeting time. Two minutes.

Johnny had, thankfully, chosen not to sit facing the door, so at least he wasn’t craning his neck every second looking for a pile of wavy dark brown hair. Maybe his mother didn’t even have the same hair anymore; maybe she’d cut it all off. Who knew.

Gheorghe, protective as ever, only glanced away from Johnny in order to subtly check the door now and again. At one minute until the set time, his eyes opened wider, and he murmured “oh my god” under his breath at the same time that Johnny heard the doorbell jangle.

He glanced over his shoulder and there she was, looking around, dark blue eyes as piercing as ever, and Johnny had that shocking, odd feeling one gets when you see a person whose face is entirely familiar to you but whom you haven’t seen in many years. Like seeing a celebrity, or a ghost; they don’t seem to fit in their environments, because you’ve fixed them so firmly in your memory and they seem to live only there.  
  
But he had no idea how Gheorghe recognized her, since he’d never even seen a picture of her, and she looked extraordinarily well-preserved for a woman who’d lived a hard life; anyone who thought they were looking for a woman in her mid-40s  would have thought she was at least a decade too young to fit the bill.

“How did you know it was her?” Johnny whispered quickly, before she spotted them.

“John.” Gheorghe just stared at him in disbelief. “She looks _exactly_ like you.”

There was no time to dispute that before the host had intervened with the lost-looking, but beautiful woman, and gestured in their direction. She smiled, tentatively, removing her coat and walking towards them with small, nervous steps.

“Johnny, my god,” she said, looking at him with shining eyes. “I…I’m so glad you came.” He stumbled to his feet. “And you’re so tall!” she smiled. It was weird. He’d used to think his mother was tall and lanky, when he was a child, and now he towered over her by several inches. He gave her a tentative half-hug, patting her back like they were two schoolmates playing football and had to make a manly, non-intimate gesture. Well, at least he hadn’t burst into tears yet.

“You look exactly the same,” he managed to choke out before swallowing, hard.

“Hello, ma’am. Let me take your coat,” Gheorghe stood too, and reached out to offer.

“You must be Gheorghe. My goodness, but you are handsome. Johnny didn’t tell me that, but he was always a little shy about that sort of thing.”

“That’s very kind of you to say. He still is a little shy, I think,” Gheorghe smiled, and reached for Johnny’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly and subtly.

“Not always,” Johnny mumbled. His heart rate was starting to slow down. She was really here. “Go ahead and sit, m—“ he stopped himself. “If you don’t mind,” he added after a brief pause.

“Of course,” she replied, still smiling at him like he’d done anything special. The two men sat across from her together, Gheorghe still holding Johnny’s hand under the table. After signaling for another tea from the waitress, she clasped her hands in front of her and said, “so, Romania. That’s very exciting! I always wanted to go, but never had the reason or the money. They say it’s very beautiful.”

“It’s nicer in the spring, but now is the best time for us to leave the farm for a little while,” Gheorghe replied.

“What town are you from? Tell me a little about yourself – I expect you must have had a very interesting journey from there to here,” she said kindly, and Gheorghe smiled at both her and Johnny, giving him an I like her already look. He answered, and they chit-chatted a little bit about his hometown, the fact that they were on the way to visit his own mother, and a few other general details.

Johnny blinked and tried to think of something to add. “We met when he came to help with the lambing,” he finally blurted. “He’s really good with the lambs.” He felt like a total idiot, but his mother just kept looking at him like he was brilliant.

“I bet he is,” she laughed softly, “You seem like a gentle soul, Gheorghe. I’m so glad Johnny has found someone to care for. And congratulations on your marriage – Johnny told me over the phone that you had a very nice wedding day.”

“It was,” Johnny and Gheorghe said at the same time, and Johnny blushed and looked down. “It was just a simple thing,” he added, “but…” he looked at Gheorghe, feeling his boldness rise. “Well, I’ve never been happier.”

Gheorghe smiled back at him, and let go of his hand briefly to tug gently at his left ear. That was their signal. If Annie showed up, and didn’t seem like she was a junkie crackhead who was going to ask for money or anything like that, and seemed reasonably nice and Johnny seemed reasonably comfortable, Gheorghe would leave them alone to catch up for a while. If Johnny signaled that he didn’t want him to, he would stay.

But, after taking a few slow breaths, Johnny realized he could handle it. He tapped Gheorghe’s foot with his own.

“Ma’am, it’s been lovely to meet you, but if you wouldn’t be offended, I have a few errands to run in the city while we’re here and I thought I might let you have a little time alone while I run them. Would that be alright?” Gheorghe asked. He was always so polite, and Johnny swooned a little more every time he realized what a charming man he’d managed to seduce. What a miracle.

“Of course,” Annie replied, and reached over to shake his hand lightly. “But you must call me Annie, not ma’am, alright? And I hope you’ll come back and chat with us a bit more when you’re done. You’re a sweetheart, really, and I’m pleased to know Johnny’s got such good taste.”

“Good luck’s more like it,” Johnny said wryly, and Gheorghe smiled affectionately at him. He knew that if Johnny was cracking jokes, he was starting to relax. Gheorghe kissed him briefly on the cheek before heading out the door.

“So, just the two of us,” his mother said gently. “This is a thrill for me. I know I said it, but I’m so glad you came. I’ve dreamed of this moment. I don’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable,” she stopped herself suddenly, looking down and biting her lip a bit, and Johnny suddenly realized…okay, maybe they did look a little alike. Just a little. “Well, will you tell me a little more about your life? How is the farm…do you like it? I bet you like it more now that you’ve got a special someone to share it with. How is the county? Is that nasty Sarah still running the pub? This is too many questions. I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“You’re doing fine, mum,” Johnny said without consciously knowing he’d tacked that last word on, but once he heard it come out of his mouth, he took a deep breath and decided to lean into it. “You’re doing just fine,” he repeated. “The farm is good,” he began. “We had a good year. Dad’s not doing so well, but he could be doing worse, and we’ve got help from the NHS now. And we didn’t lose more than one lamb this spring…” He took a sip of his tea, and prepared to tell his mother all about his simple, tiring, wonderful-now-that-Gheorghe-was there days. Surely, no one else in the world would be interested, but she leaned in like he was about to tell her the most fascinating story ever told.

When Gheorghe returned almost two hours later, Annie was resting her hand lightly on Johnny’s and they were looking at each other with delicate, just burgeoning, but true affection. Annie made them promise to come back whenever they could, and consider staying with her next time, if that wasn’t too much. And she promised she’d drive up to Keighley and try Gheorghe’s cheese at the farmer’s market, and meet them any time. The best part was, Johnny trusted that she would, and he didn’t think he was wrong to do so.

***

Gheorghe didn’t actually have any errands to run in London, at least not on this leg of the trip (he owed Deidre a few nice new tea towels on his way back home, though). He walked along the river, just thinking about what a beautiful city it really was, but dirty, loud, and crowded, like all cities. He wasn’t meant to live in a city. He’d always known that, and he wondered why he’d ever temporarily forgotten it.

He walked to a sweets shop he knew of and bought a special kind of chocolate for John. He thought about feeding it to him later, naked, in bed, seeing John’s delighted smile, him licking his own pink lips before Gheorghe licked them. John never lost his childlike wonderment at trying new things. He pretended to be cynical, and he could be genuinely cranky, that was for sure, but Gheorghe knew how alive he really was inside, how ready to open up if only someone would notice. It was what he loved about him the very most.

He wasn’t going to walk by his old neighborhood, but he decided to do it anyway. It was gentrifying, he could see. Less international workers and students, more hipsters with expensive baby strollers. Everything changed, in time. The people like him must live in some other part of the city now.

He probably shouldn’t have walked by the old bar, but he hadn’t expected Nicolae would still be working there. Surely, he must have been fired by now, or just been unable to hold down any job that required regular hours. But no, there he was, wiping down the counter, making a pathetic flirtatious face at some old sot drinking a scotch at barely half past noon. Still anything for a buck with him.

Gheorghe wasn’t exaggerating to himself when he admitted Nicolae looked like shit. Haggard and hungover. His hair was starting to recede, and his waistline had seen better days. He was officially losing his looks. That was going to be tough on Nicolae, if he was ever sober enough to notice it; he’d always been a little too dependent on his face, his body. He hadn’t taken any time to cultivate his inner life, and now it was showing on the outside.

Nicolae looked up, and shit – he’d spotted him across the street. Gheorghe braced himself, lest Nicolae charge out and cause a scene, or something. But Nicolae, after a brief moment of surprise, just looked him up and down. Gheorghe could see it reflected in his face; Gheorghe looked good. He and John had dressed up nicely to see John’s mother, in button-downs and dress slacks. They’d polished their shoes. Gheorghe’s skin was softer and clearer now that he was bathing in and drinking well water every day. He’d stopped smoking, for the most part. The Saxbys didn’t even have any alcohol in the house anymore. He’d lost a few pounds of fat and gained a few of muscle from the farmwork and, let’s face it, the constant sex. Nicolae was trying not to look appreciative – he was that much of a dick that he couldn’t even give an ex a genuinely complimentary look – but he obviously noticed.

Under other circumstances, this would be a moment that most people would consider a real win.

Gheorghe found, however, with a bit of surprise, that he didn’t care at all. He felt a little sorry for Nicolae, who was clearly going nowhere but downhill, but that was it. It was over. He’d let it go a long time ago, and he’d barely noticed because he’d been too busy falling deeper and deeper in love with the person who’d been meant to be his soulmate all along.

He waved, once, at Nicolae, who – to his slight credit, as it was about the most generous thing he had done in recent memory – gave him a thumbs up sign, then switched it to a peace sign. He cocked his head as though to ask Gheorghe if he wanted to come inside, but Gheorghe just shook his head, waved again, and walked away.

***

Johnny had never wanted a sister. It hadn’t even occurred to him to think of it. He’d had a brief time period when he wanted a brother just to have someone who could catch a ball if he threw it, but he’d given up on that thought when his mother left and it became clear that Martin was committing firmly to bachelorhood for the rest of his life. And though he’d had several female friends throughout his childhood and young adulthood, they were all sharp-witted, pushy types. Not unlike himself, he had to admit. But they nagged him enough, and on top of Deidre’s bullish ways, that had never made him long for more or closer female companionship.

He’d never been fussed over this much in his life, and he had to admit that maybe he kind of liked it.

“He’s so handsome! Gheorghe, why didn’t you tell us. He looks like a Western movie star. Like Paul Newman!” Andreea exclaimed – or maybe it was Elena. They looked so much alike that he wasn’t sure he’d gotten their names straight yet. One was a few years older than the other, but they could be twins – dusky olive skin, dark pretty eyes with long lashes like Gheorghe’s, and curly dark hair. Also, they were so talkative that he’d not gotten a chance to ask. It wasn’t the unpleasant kind of chattiness – they both had a natural way of making people feel comfortable – but he could see why Gheorghe, the youngest of the group, was so quiet, generally. He’d probably barely gotten a word in edgewise his whole childhood.

“No, Dree—“ okay, so that one was Elena, he had it now –“He looks like James Dean. It’s the hair.”

“No, he has Paul Newman cheekbones. And those eyes, so blue. I’ve never seen blue eyes that color. Like the ocean.”

“He’s cuter than your old lousy boyfriend, that’s for sure—“

“Shut up, Elena!” Andreea poked her, then turned back to whisper conspiratorially to Johnny, “You are, though. Gheorghe’s taste has improved considerably.”

Andreea insisted on making him a tea. Elena wanted to make him a sandwich (“You’re too skinny! Doesn’t my brother feed you anything?”). They practically climbed over each other racing to the kitchen, and Gheorghe just smiled at Johnny.

“See what I’ve been through?” he asked, with sarcastic fondness towards his family.

Johnny rolled his eyes. “I don’t look anything like Paul Newman,” he blushed. Maybe having sisters wasn’t so bad.

“She just means you have nice cheekbones,” Gheorghe said, stroking one of said cheekbones lightly before leaning in to kiss Johnny on the cheek.

Gheorghe’s mother came sweeping back into the room at that point, carrying a tray of rich-looking buttery cookies and a pitcher of lemonade. Apparently, all of the Ionescu women were determined to fatten Johnny up immediately. “Gheorghe used to have a poster of Paul Newman on his wall when he was a teenager,” she said, a bit teasingly.

Gheorghe laughed and shrugged. “What can I say. I still like cheekbones.”

Johnny blushed deeper and reached for a cookie to hide his face with. “Thank you, Mrs.—“

“Nonsense. Call me Maria. You’re my son-in-law now,” she said, and reached over to pinch his cheek lightly. “It’s been so nice to have you here.”

“It’s been nice to be here, M—Maria,” Johnny caught himself. It really had been nice, spending the past day with her alone, and now having Gheorghe’s siblings here. He’d never been immediately embraced by people like this. He guessed he shouldn’t be so surprised. These were Gheorghe’s people, after all, and nobody had ever embraced him like Gheorghe either.

Maria was looking at his hands while he ate the cookie, and she glanced at Gheorghe. “Do you think he would – I won’t ask if you don’t think it’s a good idea,” she said a bit cryptically.

Gheorghe gave a thoughtful look. “As long as you don’t act too serious about it,” he said after that pause.

“I won’t! I never do that,” Maria protested.

“What is it?” Johnny said, looking back and forth between them.

“She wants to read your fortune. Your hand. Have you ever done it before?” Gheorghe asked.

“I can’t say as I have,” Johnny raised his eyebrows. He supposed it could be interesting. Gheorghe always made him feel like trying new things. “I think I used up all the fortune I’m ever going to have when I met your son, but I don’t mind if you want to have a look. Long as you don’t mind callouses,” he said apologetically. “Farmer’s hands aren’t all that pretty.”

“I know all about that,” she smiled at him, and took the hand he extended to her, turning it face up and running her own hand over it. She peered at the lines, thumbing at them, silently, for a few minutes. “Well. Hmm.”

“Don’t act mysterious,” Gheorghe said gently, but with a hint of warning in his tone.’

“I’m just looking,” she said, running her fingers over Johnny’s, examining the shape of them. “This is no surprise, because you’d never be able to deal with my bullheaded son if not, but you have a very strong character. Stubborn. I bet that has made things interesting for you two,” she laughed lightly. “No one has ever been able to convince Gheorghe to do something he doesn’t want to do.”

“I’m no good at that either,” Johnny smiled, “But I almost never disagree with what he wants to do.”

“Is that so?” Gheorghe lifted an eyebrow, a grin spreading onto his face. “I’ll remember that.”

“Shhhh,” his mother urged, still looking at Johnny’s hand. Her expression grew a little worried. “People haven’t always been kind to you. You have some anger about that. But look, it fades to nothing.” She pointed to some little criss-crossing lines that Johnny could barely see. “You will be happy.”

Johnny just smiled at Gheorghe and nodded at that.

“You’ll have adventures you haven’t thought of yet. And you’ll learn lots of things. I see a lot of books in your house…and there’s flowers. Wildflowers and garden flowers. You’ll live to be a very old man. Very strong life line. And…well, that’s about it. Family is very important to you and it always will be, that’s one other thing, though. I like that. It means you’ll keep visiting,” she smiled.

“What was that pause?” Gheorghe asked, with a knowing look.

“Oh, nothing,” she said. “You said not to be too serious!” she added, when Gheorghe’s look grew a little more withering.

“I think I’d rather you told me,” Johnny said with only a hint of nervousness.

“Alright, alright, but you asked,” she replied. “I saw children. But Gheorghe is going to tell me I’m just thinking wishfully.”

“Um, well, you probably are,” Gheorghe said, a bit taken aback. Johnny had never seen him so surprised before. “We’ve never even discussed that, mom.”

“I don’t know where they would come from,” Johnny blurted at the same time. He looked at Gheorghe, a little hopefully, and Gheorghe was looking a little hopefully at him too. They had never discussed it, maybe just because it didn’t seem possible. But he had to admit, when he had pictured himself old with Gheorghe, before he asked him to marry him, he kind of had some vague picture in his mind of little children, maybe little grandchildren, running around.

“Maybe we’ll find out,” Maria winked at him, and sat back to sip her lemonade with a satisfied smile. “The universe has ways of surprising you.”  
  
***


	10. Epilogue: Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little more love to send Johnny and Gheorghe on their way with :)

Gheorghe took John to the mountains that he loved so much. It wasn’t the best time to visit, but he still wanted him to see them, at least once. John seemed interested and excited, in any case, to take the hour-long train ride, where they switched to a coach traveling the smaller and windier roads through the foothills. The views of the snowy mountains were gorgeous, and the waterfalls that worked their way through the gorges looked mystical in the winter haze.

“It reminds me of when you agreed to come back with me,” John smiled happily, squeezing Gheorghe’s hand as the coach rumbled through the countryside. “I love it. It’s so…” he blushed, “…romantic. You’re always so romantic, Gheorghe. I wish I was more like you.”

“You’re perfect to me,” Gheorghe smiled, and squeezed him back. “I think you’re more romantic than you think. A man who wasn’t romantic wouldn’t have come and gotten me. Or asked me to marry him,” he whispered into John’s ear as John nuzzled into his shoulder.

“I suppose you’re right. You’re always right,” John smiled, closing his eyes, his face blissful.

“I’m right about some things,” Gheorghe murmured.

***

The hotel was small and nothing that could ever be called fancy; Johnny thought it was perfect. The owner was an old friend of Gheorghe’s mother, and she and Gheorghe were haggling in Romanian. As far as Johnny could tell, she initially refused to accept any money and Gheorghe was insisting on paying her. Eventually, they must have settled on a compromise sum which was not as much as Gheorghe wanted to pay but was as much as she would possibly take, since both of them still looked a little unhappy as they exchanged what Johnny could tell was still much less than the standard fee.

“It really is beautiful here,” Johnny said, looking out of the window at the mountains again. He could picture young Gheorghe running around in them, chasing rabbits. It was such a sweet thought it made his heart ache.

"It is," Gheorghe replied, but he wasn't looking anywhere but at Johnny. He kissed him, and Johnny felt his heart melting, rushing like the water over the rocks of the mountains, pure and wild.

***

"I know you said there's nothing to come back here for," Johnny said later, when they were naked and wrapped in each other’s arms, limbs intertwined. "But I see why you love this place. And why you love your family. They're wonderful."

"They are," Gheorghe agreed. "Including you."

"Oh. I guess I am your family now," Johnny said, a bit taken aback. "I hadn't really thought of it that way." He laughed a little, softly, tracing his fingers through Gheorghe's chest hair. "I guess that means you're stuck with the rest of the Saxbys too. I have to tell you I got the better end of that bargain."

"I think it's a very good bargain all around," Gheorghe purred, nuzzling against his neck and ear. Johnny smiled. He was getting used to smiling. His face didn't hurt so much from it anymore.

"You know, I could see myself living here someday. Or someplace like this. When we're old and grey," he said.

Gheorghe looked at him with surprise. "John, you love your home. I would never ask you to leave it."

"I do love it. But I love it because of the people who are there." Johnny shrugged a little. "It's good land, and I like owning something, being independent. But you're my home now. I could live anywhere with you."

"That's a nice thought," Gheorghe relaxed again, smiling, stroking Johnny's hair off his forehead. "But I...I love your home too. When you imagine us old, don't you imagine us in the farmhouse?"

"I do," Johnny admitted. "Okay, okay. You got me. We can stay. But let's have more adventures like this, when we can afford them."

"Any day with you is an adventure," Gheorghe tucked Johnny into his arms, spooning him. "And besides, if those magical children my crazy mother was talking about show up, I like the idea of raising them there. Teaching them all the things we learned."

Johnny sighed. "I don't mean to freak you out -- I know we're way too young for that yet -- but I kind of...well, I kind of hope she's right."

"So do I," Gheorghe grinned against his ear. "I love you, John. I promise you, we're going to be together forever."

"I love you forever too," Johnny turned to kiss Gheorghe, just one last time before sleep.

They were never parted, not for more than a day in their life, and their forever was everything they hoped and wished for it to be, and more besides.

THE END

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! This is the longest fic I’ve ever written, but I really enjoyed writing it :) Thanks to all of you for your kind and encouraging comments and kudos.
> 
> I love these characters so much and it’s great to share that love with so many nice people :)
> 
> I’m really not sure how Johnny and Gheorghe are going to get those children, but if I figure it out or if I’m inspired by any other visions I have for their future, you’ll be the first ones to know. And feel free to leave ideas about that :) 
> 
> John Saxby <3’s Gheorghe Ionescu forever!


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